


No Parties

by hollycomb



Category: Toy Story 3 (2010), Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy's mom is taking Molly out of town for a weekend soccer tournament. She warns him not to host a party, and he's only half-lying when he says that he won't. Three days of playing house with Sid doesn't count as a party, technically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Parties

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of missing scene from the [Under the Table and Dreaming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/617850) verse. I didn't write much about them in high school prior to the drama of their breakup, and I wanted to write about one of the good times.

Andy was nervous as his mom packed up the car and prepared to leave for the weekend, and he knew she could tell. He was doing the breakfast dishes, trying to play it cool. She was giving him a suspicious look when he turned from the sink and dried his hands. 

“You're washing dishes?” she said. Andy shrugged. 

“It's my house for the whole weekend,” he said. “Gotta man up and do some extra chores for a few days.” That sounded stupider out loud than it had in his head; he struggled not to wince. 

“Andy,” she said. “If I hear from Mrs. Johnson that there was a party here while I was gone--”

“Mom, god! I don't even have enough friends to throw a party. And you know I don't do that sort of stuff.” 

“I know.” She crossed the room to give him a hug. “You're a good kid,” she said when she pulled back. “And I trust you, obviously. But there's something--” She narrowed her eyes, studying Andy's. He gave her a look of pure annoyance, hoping that she hadn't felt his heart pounding when they hugged. “You're sure you're okay?”

“Okay? I'm fine, I'm great. Why?”

“Mhmm, I don't know, you've seemed distracted all week.” 

“Distracted from what? It's summer, I've just been relaxing.”

Molly thundered down the stairs in the foyer, her soccer bag slung diagonally across her back. Andy's mom was still looking at him like she suspected something, giving him the lawyerly appraisal that he'd been getting since childhood, when he'd lied about having already brushed his teeth or picked up the toys in his room. He hadn't lied often, which was maybe why she relented and kissed his cheek. 

“Absolutely no parties,” she said, holding up her finger. “Not even just Tim and those other boys over here for a game of D&D, I mean it.” 

“I don't play D&D anymore,” Andy said. “And I swear, no parties!”

“No friends over at all,” his mother said, backing toward the front hallway, where Molly was whining that they were going to be late for registration. 

“No friends,” Andy said, his chest doing the sort of frightened-quiver thing that it always did when he lied to his mom's face, though this wasn't technically a lie. Sid wasn't a friend, exactly. 

“Mom, seriously!” Molly said, stomping her foot. “Stop wasting time, Andy's a goody-goody and you know it.” 

Andy appreciated that, though it was meant to be a dig at him. He gave Molly a semi-affectionate middle finger when his mom had turned her back. Molly grinned and returned the gesture in full view of their mother. 

“Hey!” she said. “Knock that off, get in the car.”

“Later, butthead!” Molly said, waving as they walked into the garage. Andy leaned back against the sink and listened to the van's doors open and close, then the garage door thudding shut when they'd backed out. He went to the living room and looked out the front windows, watching the van drive away. They would be gone until Sunday night, Molly's team competing in national tournament, Andy's mom serving as one of the parent chaperones. She didn't typically have time for these kinds of activities, and Molly was overjoyed to have her all to herself for the weekend. Andy was overjoyed to have the house to himself, though also so nervous about inviting Sid to spend the weekend here with him that he was afraid he might puke. He checked his phone for the thousandth time since last night. Sid still hadn't responded to Andy's text asking if he would be around on Friday. 

It was typical Sid; he had always loved games, and keeping Andy dangling on a string, never knowing what Sid would do next. Andy tried to distract himself with some TV, but it was a weekday morning and nothing was on but soap operas, pre-school cartoons and the news. He switched to video games, trying and failing not to check his phone every three minutes. By five o'clock he'd started to feel like a fool for stocking up on food that Sid liked when his mom took him to the grocery store last night. He'd even put a king size bag of Twizzlers up in his room, near the bed. 

When his phone lit up at five-thirty he lunged for it, but it was just a text from his mom saying that they'd arrived safely at their hotel and that she wanted him to call her before he went to bed. Andy sent back two letters, 'OK.' He was annoyed with his mom, though Sid's lack of excitement about spending the weekend with him wasn't her fault. The next time his phone lit up he groped for it listlessly, preparing to be disappointed again. He couldn't help grinning at the screen when he saw that this new message was from Sid. 

_should I come through the window or what_

_No_ , Andy sent back, trying to play it cool the way Sid did. He could only leave it at that for ten seconds before he started to panic, thinking Sid might interpret this as Andy telling him not to come over after all. _Just knock on the kitchen door around back. And don't bring your car_

Sid sent nothing in return, and Andy imagined him scoffing at these instructions. Usually it was the other way around, Sid telling Andy what to do, and while Andy sometimes resented this he more often salivated for it. Ever since Andy was a kid, Sid had felt like the answer to some big question that was always lodged in his chest, a kind of guide book for how to feel good and weird but satisfied. 

Andy was jittery again within minutes, because Sid had, of course, given him no ETA. He never did, and all throughout the school year Andy's heart had dipped whenever Sid decided not to bother to show up for class. He would often expect Andy at his house directly after school anyway, and at the start of the summer Andy began showing up there a little earlier, first at three o'clock and then around two, and on the day he lost his virginity in Sid's bed he had only been able to wait until noon, so antsy for him that even once they were together it hadn't seemed like enough. That feeling was what had prompted Andy to ask Sid if he wanted to do it, already knowing the answer. 

That was just a couple of weeks ago, and they had only done it a few times since then. Andy had expected Sid to ask for it outright once that door was finally opened, but so far he'd been waiting for Andy to whisper that he wanted it, needed it, maybe just because he liked to hear him beg. It was still strange, considering that Sid called the shots in all other areas of their relationship, and that he knew very well how much Andy liked it when he did. 

It was a little after seven and still mostly light outside when Sid showed up at the kitchen door, lifting his hand in a stoic greeting when Andy spotted him through the glass. Andy suppressed a beaming grin, though he wasn't sure why he bothered. Sid always knew exactly how happy he was to see him. 

“Brought beer,” Sid said, lifting a brown paper bag when Andy opened the door. 

“Cool,” Andy said, though he didn't like beer. “C'mon in. I was just about to make a frozen pizza for dinner. You hungry?”

“Sure,” Sid said. He walked into the kitchen and looked around. If Andy didn't know him better he might have thought he seemed a little on edge, as if he was checking the house to make sure Andy wasn't lying about his mom and sister being out of town. 

“I have pepperoni or deluxe,” Andy said, standing at the freezer and feeling a little stupid. Sid pulled his six pack out of its bag and yanked a can from the plastic rings. 

“What's deluxe?” Sid asked as he cracked the beer open, and Andy found this question adorable. It was moments like this that he worried he was in love with Sid in some kind of irreversible way.

“Um,” Andy said, turning back to the freezer to check the pizza box. “It's got sausage, pepperoni, green peppers, and onions.” 

“Onions,” Sid said. “Sick.” 

“Well, fine, I'll make the pepperoni one.” 

Andy's uncomfortable house-wifey feeling intensified as he pre-heated the oven and put the beers in the fridge. He pulled one out for himself, though he didn't actually want to drink it. Sid had wandered into the living room and was peering at the framed pictures on the mantle. 

“What did you do today?” Andy asked, walking in to stand beside him. 

“Slept,” Sid said, still looking at an old picture of Andy, gap-toothed and wearing his little league uniform. 

“That's it?” Andy said. Sid drank from his beer and looked over at him. 

“Well, yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “Had to rest up.” He put his hand on Andy's hip, and Andy swooned in toward him like hypnotized prey, already breathing faster. “This will be the first time I get to fuck you all night long,” Sid said. 

He was grinning a little, mostly in his eyes. Andy scoffed and felt himself blush, and he opened for Sid's tongue when he leaned in for a kiss. The only time Andy liked the taste of beer was when it was paired with the taste and heat of Sid's mouth. He pressed himself to Sid and sighed when Sid moved down to kiss his neck, dragging his teeth over all the right spots, and he gasped when he realized the curtains were open, that any nosy neighbor happening by might see Sid kissing him.

“Shit,” he said, pushing Sid back by the shoulders. “Hang on.” 

He put his beer on the mantle and crossed the room to close the curtains, his heart pounding and his cock already half-hard. When the curtains were shut, he turned back to see that Sid had walked into the kitchen. 

“Where's the trash?” Sid asked. He'd already drained his beer and crushed the can in his fist. 

“We recycle cans,” Andy said, and he rolled his eyes at himself when Sid's eyebrows lifted. “I mean, never mind-- it's under the sink. I'll take out the garbage Sunday morning, don't let me forget.” 

“Oh, I'm still gonna be here on Sunday?”

“If you want,” Andy said, embarrassed. Sid smirked and opened the cabinets under the sink until he found the garbage can. 

“We'll see,” he said. “You might be begging for mercy by tomorrow morning.” 

“Have I ever begged for mercy before?” Andy asked, though he supposed he technically had, when they were kids and still playing games under that picnic table. Sid got another beer from the fridge. “You're going to finish those before dinner is done,” Andy said, annoyed. Sid cracked the beer open and stared at Andy while he gulped from it.

“So?” he said. Andy shrugged. He didn't want Sid to fall asleep on the couch after pizza, drunk. He wanted the other thing, the fucking all night long, his thighs already aching for the thought of parting for Sid's dick again and again, until he was wibbling and sore and falling asleep under Sid without even cleaning himself up. That was the idea of this weekend, really. It wasn't supposed to be some kind of three day long date, even though Andy had planned all their meals. 

They ate pizza in front of the TV, and Sid finished a third beer. He had a high tolerance and didn't seem drunk, but he was more affectionate than usual, less guarded. He dragged Andy against him and pressed wet kisses to his neck, sucked on his earlobe, even nuzzled at his cheek. Andy was in heaven, floating, smiling dazedly at the TV and pretending that his erection wasn't badly in need of attention. He didn't want to beg just yet, didn't want to skip this part. 

“This house smells like you,” Sid said when Andy turned to face him. 

“Really?” Andy had noticed that Sid's room held a specific smell that could make him hard as soon as he walked through the door if he was in the right mood, and his car had the same quality. “How-- what do I smell like?” Andy asked, his lips bumping against Sid's when he spoke. Sid sucked in a deep breath and sat back a little. 

“Clean,” Sid said. 

“That's all? Like a floor somebody just mopped?”

“No, asshole, not like a floor. Like a person.”

Andy gave in and let Sid kiss him then, and he pressed up into Sid's touch when his hand finally slid over Andy's hard dick, feeling him through his jeans. 

“I don't know what it is,” Sid said, kneading him until he moaned and twitched his hips. “But you smell like you need to get fucked hard, too.” 

Andy laughed. “When did I start smelling like that?” he asked, because they had dry humped for almost three years before that happened. 

“Probably around the time my balls dropped,” Sid said. “You want it here?” he asked, murmuring this into Andy's ear, still palming his dick. “Or upstairs? I could put you over the kitchen table, fuck you on the laundry machine. It's your house, you pick.” 

“Upstairs,” Andy said, already bright red from the thought of Sid fucking him in any of those places, including the couch. “Please,” he added, his dick leaking into his boxers. Sid touched Andy's chin, held it, and nodded. 

“Waiting for me to carry you?” he asked when Andy just stared at him, breathing hard, transfixed. Andy snorted and stood, though he would have liked to be carried, maybe. 

Andy's legs were wobbly on the stairs, his pants uncomfortably tight. He left the lights off when they walked into his room, and went to pull the blinds shut over his view of the blazing sunset. Sid stood in the middle of the room, thumbs hooked through the loops of his jeans. Sid had been here before, but only a few times. It wasn't the same room where Andy held him while he cried, but that was the same twin bed, same wooden headboard, and Andy thought Sid was kind of pointedly not looking at it. 

“Take your clothes off,” Sid said. 

“Shut the door,” Andy said when he'd pulled off his shirt. 

“Why? Nobody's here.” 

“I know, but. Just, it's weird, with the door open. Please?”

“Fine,” Sid said and he turned to close the door. “Didn't realize you didn't want shit to get weird this weekend,” he said, and he pulled his shirt off, keeping his back to Andy. 

“Weird like how?” Andy asked, shoving his jeans down. 

“I don't know,” Sid said, turning to let Andy watch him undo the button on his jeans and pull the zipper on his fly down. “Just thought I'd have time to get creative.” 

It was still slightly frightening to be reminded of how 'creative' Sid could get, their old games that always ended in Andy pinned underneath him and saying 'uncle' like it was their safe word, but mostly it was arousing, and Andy hurried out of his boxers, blushing from his cheeks to his chest. It was weird to stand in his childhood bedroom, naked, Sid watching him like they were still in his territory, even inside Andy's house. 

“Come here,” Sid said, opening his jeans. His cock was hard, tented inside his gray boxer briefs. Andy walked to him, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Look at you,” Sid said, and he took hold of Andy's chin again, more roughly this time. “You're a mess.” 

“No, I'm not,” Andy said, as weakly as an admission that yes, he was. Sid flashed a grin and then went stoic again, his eyes burning down into Andy's. 

“Tell me what you want,” he said, soft like a threat, his thumb stroking Andy's jaw. 

“To suck you off,” Andy said, his face on fire. He loved and hated it when Sid made him spell it out. “And. Fucking, like you said.” 

“Like I said?” Sid raised his eyebrows. 

“Hard,” Andy said, putting his shaking hands over Sid's hip bones. “All night.” 

Sid grunted in approval and ran his hand over Andy's chest, making him shiver. He leaned in like he was going to kiss Andy, but he stopped just short, his breath warm over Andy's parted lips. 

“On your knees,” Sid said. “Look at that,” he said when Andy lowered down gladly, his hands sliding down Sid's legs for traction. Sid reached down and tipped Andy's chin up once he was in position. “You're a good boy,” he said, and Andy's stomach pinched up when he thought of his mother saying that to him, more or less, in the kitchen this morning.

“No,” Andy said, trying to make his eyes hard. “I'm not.” 

“You're not?” Sid cocked his head. 

“I mean,” Andy said, and swallowed, moving his hand up to cover Sid's dick. It was hot through the straining cloth of his boxers, twitching once under his palm. “Do good boys like sucking cock this much?” 

Sid snorted. “Fuck yeah they do,” he said. “Take it out. That's good, there you go. That's your reward, for being a good boy. Show me how bad you want that in you.” 

Andy whimpered for the opportunity to do so, mouthing at Sid's freed dick with wet kisses from the base to the tip. He was so hard for this he felt like he could come untouched, and he didn't dare reach for his cock as he took Sid into his mouth. He was in Sid's hands now, one in his hair and the other cupping Andy's jaw, Sid's thumb rubbing him there like a kind of praise while Andy bobbed his head, tried to take him deeper. 

“You're so good,” Sid said, breathy and almost sounding like he was in actual awe of how wet Andy's mouth got for this. “Goddamn, yeah. Gonna nail you to the bed with that dick. That what you want?”

Andy moaned and sort of nodded, Sid's dick still in his mouth. He had no idea why he liked this so much, and could remember being scared of it when he was fourteen, but not scared enough to keep from trying it. He had felt so fucking impressive that day, Sid's eyes wide and disbelieving as he looked down between his legs and watched Andy take his first timid licks, Sid's mouth falling open like Andy was all seven wonders of the world.

“Gonna make you go crazy on that dick,” Sid said, breathing harder now, his hips twitching when Andy pressed down in a probably sorry attempt to deep throat him; Sid had never complained about his attempts, but Andy could only touch the tip of Sid's cock to the back of his throat for a moment before resuming the more pedestrian act of sliding his lips up and down as much as the shaft as he could without choking. “You're gonna scream so loud,” Sid said, huffing, “Gonna wake up all your fancy neighbors when you come on that cock.” 

Andy snorted at the idea that his neighborhood was 'fancy.' He supposed it was when compared to Sid's dad's house, which wasn't much smaller but was never clean and had no pretensions to order of any kind. He moaned in protest when Sid tugged on his hair, drawing him back until Andy's mouth disconnected from his cock. 

“Don't cry,” Sid said. He ran his thumb over Andy's swollen lips, and Andy struggled not to capture it in his mouth and suck, so turned on now that he was like Sid's mindless wind-up toy, every inch of him surrendered to how good this felt. “Get on the bed,” Sid said, and Andy scrambled to obey, not even troubling to pretend that he wasn't desperate now. 

“Sid,” Andy said, panting his name when Sid took his time pushing down his boxers and stepping out of his jeans, peeling them from each leg slowly. 

“You're drooling all over yourself,” Sid said, and Andy wiped his wet mouth before realizing that Sid meant his cock, which was dribbling pre-come onto his stomach. “Gonna go off as soon as I touch you?”

“I don't know,” Andy said. 

“That's right, you don't. I tell you when to come, don't I?”

“Yeah,” Andy said, nodding. He bent his knees and spread his legs, arching off the mattress. 

“Jesus,” Sid said, crawling onto the bed. “Hey, calm down,” he said when he was on all fours over Andy, who was trembling and panting beneath him, already falling apart. Sid stroked his cheek and peered down into his face, unblinking. “Don't have a seizure or anything,” Sid said. 

“I need you,” Andy said, his voice cracking. It felt good, and so incredibly painful, to admit it. The good and the pain were hand in hand, inextricably linked. 

“I know,” Sid said. He leaned down to lick Andy's hot cheek. “Got lotion or something?” he asked, and Andy nodded. 

“In there,” he said, pointing to the drawer on his bedside table. Sid dug out Andy's bottle of jerk off lotion and popped it open. The glow of the sunset had faded from around the borders of the blinds, and Andy was so ready for this, all night, all weekend, just this. He moaned when Sid's slicked fingers brushed over his hole, rubbing him in slow circles. 

“What do you need?” Sid asked, his mouth hovering over Andy's like a tease, breath warm and choppy on his lips. 

“You,” Andy said. 

“Be more specific.” 

“Your cock, in me, fucking me, please--”

“In here?” Sid said, pressing a finger into him. Andy groaned and threw his head back, pressed his hips down. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice cut up and shameless. 

“You're so goddamn tight,” Sid said, pushing in deeper. “Doesn't it, like. Hurt?”

It was weird, a seemingly serious question in the middle of everything else. Andy blinked his eyes open with some effort, peered up at Sid curiously. 

“Doesn't hurt,” Andy said, shaking his head and wondering if this was part of some game. “W-would my cock be hard if it hurt?”

“I don't know.” Sid frowned, found Andy's prostate, rubbed him there until he cried out and bucked into the feeling. “You like. When I hurt you, seems like.”

“What?” Andy's eyes shot open, and Sid's finger slid out of him. Andy glared at him, hating that he'd made this a real conversation; he wanted to get off, didn't want to talk about why or how. “No, I don't. Jesus, do you need me to fuck you to show you how good it feels?” He really didn't want to, really very much preferred this, but he wasn't going to get told, even by Sid, that this felt anything less than amazing.

“Nah,” Sid said, cool again and shrugging one shoulder. “I tried it on myself once, didn't like it. Pull your legs back.” 

Andy reached under his knees and drew his legs against his chest, knees bent. He was still annoyed, but not so much that he didn't want what he'd been promised. Distantly, he realized that Sid seemed kind of worried. 

“I'd tell you if you really hurt me,” Andy said while Sid slicked his cock, but this was a lie, because the only way Sid could really hurt him was the way they both knew he eventually would: by watching Andy ride off into the sunset, moving on to some other good boy next door. 

“Good,” Sid said, his eyes dark. “'Cause I'm gonna fuck you so hard.” 

He still went in slow, like Andy was a virgin again, both of them breathing through their noses and trying to fight how connected they were until it was right on top of them, Sid balls-deep and Andy whimpering, wrapping his legs around Sid's back. They kissed, arms around each other, and when it tasted like _I'm sorry_ , Andy wasn't sure which of them was saying so or why. Sid snapped his hips and Andy cried out, his teeth dragging across Sid's bottom lip, legs going tense and holding him in place. 

“You're so—” Sid said, and Andy realized he was shaking, his stomach trembling against Andy's. 

“Clean?” Andy said, his eyes closed, face pressed to Sid's cheek. “Good?”

“Hot,” Sid said, and then, more softly, “Warm.”

It went more or less like their first time had, and like every time since then: Sid taking it slow at first, trying to last, and then giving in to fucking Andy hard, teeth grit and hips pistoning, until Andy was coming against his stomach and Sid was following him fast, slamming in deep. They were both trembly afterward, sweating, still pressed together. Sid's face was hidden against Andy's throat, his breath hot on Andy's skin. 

“God,” Andy said, petting Sid's hair. “We should do this more often.”

Sid snorted, twitching into him even as his cock softened. “Weekends?” he said, mumbling.

“I wish,” Andy said, and he pulled on Sid's hair, annoyed that he'd dragged that admission out of him in the afterglow. “Anal sex,” he said, which sounded like a poor description of what had just happened. Sid laughed and lifted his head. 

“That could be arranged,” he said. Andy surged up to kiss him, and Sid pulled out while their mouths were still connected. 

“Fuck,” Andy said, his blush returning when he felt Sid's come leaking out of him. He rolled against Sid's chest and ignored the sensation for now, hoping to get held. Sid draped an arm around his waist and breathed into his hair, sighing. 

“Bed's small,” he said. Andy thought of that night when they were kids, the thunderstorm, how he had wrapped Sid in his arms, pet his spiky buzz cut, let him hide his tears. 

“We still fit,” Andy said. Sid sat up and pushed his hair off his forehead. 

“Got anything for dessert?” he asked. 

“Check in there,” Andy said, nodding to the bedside table's drawer again. Sid opened it and groped around until he found the Twizzlers. He pulled them out, grinned.

“Sweet,” he said. He opened the bag, pressed a Twizzler to Andy's lips and fed it to him, as was tradition, until Andy was half hard again and grinning, wanting Sid to lean down and taste the candy on his tongue. Sid licked at Andy's mouth after he'd swallowed the candy, laughing under his breath, and the beer and Twizzler flavor combination of their kiss was enough to make Andy feel like he could keep at least some of this, at least for a while. 

Andy didn't intend to fall asleep. He truly wanted to have Sid in him all night long, in a hedonistic marathon, even if it had to take place in his childhood bedroom, where his old toy box still sat against the wall under the window. But he was tired, and apparently so was Sid. When Andy woke up it was past midnight and Sid was heavy on his back, breathing slow near his ear, deep asleep. 

Andy rolled over carefully. He needed to pee, and to shower. His ass was starting to itch, and he was pretty sure that was what had woken him. He touched Sid's cheek, waiting for him to flinch awake. It was rare that he got to see Sid sleep this soundly; he usually woke up as soon as Andy adjusted against him. He ran his finger over the hard line of Sid's jaw, then along the curve of his ear. Andy's heart was pounding, as if he was touching someone he didn't know, without permission, and not the same boy he had held in this bed when he'd cried himself to sleep at nine years old. It gave him goosebumps just to think that this was that boy, still here, almost too tall for the bed now. 

“Sidney,” Andy said, whispering. He'd always wanted to try calling Sid that, but wouldn't dare if he was awake. Andy couldn't blame him for hating it; he didn't like being called 'Andrew' by people who didn't know him. Still, it was kind of thrilling to know that Sid had this other, secret name, the one he'd been given as a baby. Something about watching him sleep made Andy think of this, and made him want to say it again. 

“Where you going?” Sid asked when Andy attempted to climb over him.

“To shower,” Andy said. 

“Shower, what the fuck?” Sid said, the words muffled by the pillow he had his face half-hidden in. “It's the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, well, you've never tried to sleep with come in your ass, have you? I'll be right back.” 

“Seriously?” Sid said. He sat up on his elbows, yawned. “You've fallen asleep with my dick in your ass,” he said, rubbing his eyes. Andy laughed, lingering near the door. It was weird to be naked and consider walking out into the hall without any clothes on, but the bathroom was five steps from his room and there was nobody here, just Sid.

“Okay, no,” Andy said, “I have not fallen asleep with your dick in me. Like, when?”

“I meant almost,” Sid said. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Do you want some water?” Andy asked, reaching for the door knob. 

“No,” Sid said. He stood and stretched. Andy admired his physique in the streetlight glow from the window; Sid was lean but strong, and his arms were starting to get big. He probably couldn't have actually carried Andy up the stairs. 

“You're coming with me?” Andy said when he opened the door and Sid walked to him. Sid shrugged.

“You woke me up,” he said, touching Andy's hip. 

Walking to the bathroom with his naked boyfriend following behind him made Andy's heart pound, but being in the shower with him was worth it. They were both still a little groggy from sleep, kissing with their eyes half-closed and rubbing against each other while the hot water made the air foggy. Andy had closed the bathroom door, wanting that sense of redundant security again. 

“Put your hands on the wall,” Sid said, so gently that Andy shivered. His instructions, especially during sex, always sounded filthiest when he used the soft voice that sounded like an acknowledgement that Andy was already putty for him. Andy turned and took a deep breath, his hands going to the tile wall of the shower. “Does this thing come off?” Sid asked, examining the showerhead, and he plucked it from its holster before Andy could answer that yes, it did. He'd been using it on himself, like this, since he was a freshman, but it felt so much better when Sid did it almost clinically, cleaning Andy out while he moaned and thrust his hips back to meet the warm pressure of the water. 

“Oh, god,” he said when Sid held him open, squatting down to get a better angle. “If we lived together I'd want you to do this every day,” Andy said, blissed-out from the feeling of cleaned up by the same guy who'd dirtied him. He opened his eyes and felt stupid for saying that in the heat of the moment, though Sid was acting like he hadn't heard. As if they would ever live together.

“There,” Sid said. He stood and replaced the showerhead. “All good.” 

“You just made me hard as hell,” Andy said, turning to show him. He smirked when he saw that Sid was in the same state. 

“Well,” Sid said. “If we go again, you'll have to take another shower.” 

Sid pulled Andy to him and jerked him off slow in lieu of that, teasing him until his knees shook and he was begging with Sid's name, whispering it in little pleas while he tried to fuck Sid's hand. He wondered what it would be like to say 'Sidney,' if Sid would maybe spank him if he tried it. They hadn't done that yet; Andy had a hard enough time asking to be fucked. He had no idea how you made requests for weirder stuff, and he came in Sid's hand when he imagined it: bending over, counting, Sid's fingertips brushing over his sore ass cheeks between every slap. 

“Swallow it this time,” Sid said when Andy sank down to take him into his mouth, still trembling from his orgasm. Andy nodded, did as he was told, and let Sid yank him up like a ragdoll when he was done. 

“So tired,” Andy mumbled, his head on Sid's shoulder. The water had started to cool down. Sid shut it off and pushed back the shower curtain. 

“C'mon,” he said, helping Andy out. “Told you I'd wear you out. Too easy.”

“Shut up,” Andy said. He accepted a towel and dried his face before wrapping it around himself. “I'm not worn out,” he said, though he couldn't wait to sleep again. 

“Right,” Sid said. “You're ready for more?”

Andy grumbled a non-response. He knew Sid was tired, too. He'd felt it in the shower, in the ease of his slow pace. Back in the bedroom, still damp, Andy crawled into the bed and lay on his stomach, waiting to see what Sid would do. He smiled into his pillow when Sid shut the door behind him. 

Sid got into bed with a sigh and rolled onto Andy, sliding his arm across Andy's shoulders. Maybe he thought Andy was asleep, because he kissed the back of his neck in a brand new way that was almost delicate, just under his hair line. 

“You smell clean, too,” Andy said. Sid snorted. 

“I didn't even use soap,” he said. 

“I don't just mean now. I mean, it's. You smell like cigarettes sometimes, or beer, or sweat, but it's good. You always taste good.” 

“To you, maybe.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You like-- Never mind, go to sleep.” 

“No, tell me,” Andy said, shifting around to face him. Sid had his eyes closed, his brows pinched a little. 

“You like coming away with a little ash on your tongue,” he said. “You like the dirt. Remember when I used to grind you into the dirt, when we were kids?”

“You didn't grind me, jesus.” 

“Sure I did. I thought you were tired?”

“I am.” Andy rolled away from him, toward the wall. He was awake now, and annoyed, because Sid seemed to think he was some kind of thrill-seeker who saw Sid as a fascinating side show. That wasn't entirely inaccurate, at least when they were kids, but it wasn't only that. Sid spooned up behind him and hugged his arm around him again, sighing near his ear. 

“We should play doctor again,” Sid said, and Andy grinned. 

“I used to think maybe you'd yank my arms right out of their sockets,” he said. “But I always came back for more. I guess I am weird.” 

“You just knew I wouldn't have done that,” Sid said. “Not really.”

Andy hadn't known that, actually. He had been truly afraid of Sid up until sixth grade or so, if also fascinated. He didn't say so, because Sid seemed to want to believe that Andy had always trusted him this much. 

In the morning, Andy woke up alone and looked reflexively to the bedroom window, almost expecting to see nine-year-old Sid there, straddling the frame before disappearing without a word. The window was shut but the blinds were half-open, letting in searing sunlight. It was pretty late, almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Andy sat and stared at his bedroom door, which was no longer shut. He couldn't hear footsteps downstairs or the water running in the hall bathroom. Sid had left, just like that, and Andy wasn't sure why he was so surprised. He might be back later, with another six-pack.

Andy put some boxer shorts on and slumped downstairs, depressed. He startled when he walked into the kitchen and saw a man sitting out on the back porch, but it was just Sid, smoking a cigarette. 

“Hey,” Andy said when he walked out to join him, trying to play it cool. Sid was fully dressed, ashing his cigarette into an empty beer can. “Beer for breakfast?” Andy said when he sat down beside him, alarmed. 

“Nah, it was flat,” Sid said. “I poured it out. You left it on the fireplace thing. Figured you wouldn't want it hanging out there until your mom got back.” 

“It's called a mantle,” Andy said, leaning against him. 

“Huh?”

“A mantle, the fireplace thing, it's a mantle.” 

“Okay.” Sid gave Andy a look like he was the most ridiculous ass on earth, but Andy couldn't stop smiling. Sid had cleaned up for him, had protected him from the wrath of his mother. He had stayed. 

Andy made pancakes for breakfast. Sid ate six and didn't help with the dishes. When they were finished, Andy wasn't sure if they would have sex, play 'doctor,' or just stare at each other awkwardly until Sid made up some excuse to leave. They ended up playing video games, slumped together on the couch and fondling each other idly until they'd made it into a game itself, both trying to sabotage the other's video game victories with groping. Sid tackled Andy when he lost, which was the best possible outcome, and Andy was suddenly unopposed to sex on the couch. 

The rest of the weekend passed like this: games, naps, sex, food. Andy felt like a glutton and didn't care. He only left the house to sit beside Sid on the back porch and watch him blow smoke rings. Their game of doctor involved a plastic glove that Sid had swiped from the pack that Andy's mother kept in the kitchen for cooking, and Andy almost came in his pants when Sid snapped it around his wrist and flexed his fingers. By Sunday morning Andy's ass was temporarily out of order, in need of rest, and Sid slept with his hand over it in a way that Andy wanted to interpret as protective. 

“I'd better get out of here,” Sid said around noon, when they were still lingering in bed. Andy was burned out on sex in a way that he previously hadn't thought possible, but he needed much more of this other thing and didn't want to let it go: Sid's persistent closeness, his freely available body heat, the sight of his spent cock soft against his thigh. 

“They won't get back until tonight,” Andy said, his hand flexing on Sid's waist. 

“Yeah, but you've to air out the house or something. Take out the garbage, all that.” 

“Thanks for reminding me,” Andy said, earnestly. He sighed. Sid was lying perfectly still, on his back. Andy was clutching at him like a needy child, wondering if Sid was hoping to be released. 

“I like this house,” Sid said, just as Andy had decided he'd better sit up, let him go. Andy slid his leg across Sid's hips, holding him tighter. 

“Yeah?”

“I didn't think I would.” Sid was quiet for a while. Andy could hear him swallow once, twice. “Didn't think I'd like you when we met,” Sid finally said. 

“Ha. What changed your mind?”

“How you'd play those games with me. Like you cared, like me. Like it mattered to get it right.” 

“What do you mean?” Andy asked, though he kind of knew. Sid shrugged.

“You were never boring,” he said. “You looked like you'd be boring. I mean, until I knew you.” 

“Then what did I look like?”

“Like, you know. Like things were probably about to get interesting.” 

Andy hid his grin against Sid's shoulder. He'd felt the same way, and still did. When they'd first kissed, it had been such a boring summer day until they ran into each other. He remembered sitting next to Sid and watching a sprinkler flinging water in the yard across the street, both of them unwilling to leave the other's side, neither of them sure why. Then the kiss, and they knew. 

An hour later, Sid was gone. Andy wandered around the house, searching for any incriminating signs that he had been here. The trash had been taken out, and Andy had sprayed Febreeze out on the back porch, just in case the smell of cigarettes was lingering somewhere, though he knew it probably wasn't. He put his bedsheets in the wash and curled up on the living room couch, sniffing at the cushions to make sure they didn't smell like Sid. He knew he should be relieved when they didn't.


End file.
